


Bitter-Sweet

by Ripki



Series: The Team Trope Collection [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Angst and Feels, Complicated Relationships, Fluff, Gen, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, The Dysfunctional Team, Young Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripki/pseuds/Ripki
Summary: Sometimes, the Universe just hated Obi-Wan Kenobi. Case in point the peculiar moment, when he found himself staring in utter incomprehension at his former Padawan.Formerbeing perhaps not exactly the right term.Trope: de-aging.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: The Team Trope Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002135
Comments: 27
Kudos: 280





	Bitter-Sweet

Sometimes, the Universe just hated Obi-Wan Kenobi. Case in point the peculiar moment, when he found himself staring in utter incomprehension at his former Padawan. _Former_ being perhaps not exactly the right term.

“Master! You changed!” Anakin Skywalker piped up, forehead scrunched in dismay.

 _No, you changed_ , Obi-Wan wanted to say, but he ran his hands over his face just in case, relieved when nothing seemed to be out of place. At least he had his beard – and no Padawan braid hang behind _his_ ear, thank the Force. The same could not be said of Anakin, whose fingers had come to fiddle his short braid in a familiar, but long ago outgrown, habit.

“You are _old_ now,” the boy remarked critically, making Obi-Wan bristle. He was not yet that old, but then again, to a ten-year-old, everyone above thirty probably seemed ancient. _Ten-year-old_ being the main point of the whole karking mess.

“Master? Are you alright? Did you hit your head?” A note of apprehension crept among the curiosity, Anakin’s fear suddenly flaring bright in the Force.

“No, there is nothing wrong with me,” Obi-Wan hurried to assure, scrambling to get up from the grassy mound he was currently sprawling on, mind still trying to comprehend the impossible sight before him. Perhaps he _had_ hit his head. He took in the golden-yellow hair, somehow messy even in its spiky Padawan haircut; the elfin face that held a hint of childish chubbiness, thanks to the eagerly devoured meals of the Temple refectory; the bright, inquisitive eyes, looking at him like Obi-Wan knew all the answers in the galaxy.

The small face twisted into a dubious expression; Anakin watched intently as Obi-Wan span around, looking for someone or something that had caused their current predicament. One moment he and Anakin – the _adult_ Anakin – had stood in the middle of an empty grassland, the next Obi-Wan had found himself laying on the ground as his former Padawan was somehow back to being a child. Besides the how of it, there were two other questions that demanded immediate answers.

Why did the Universe hate Obi-Wan? And of course, the slightly more important: How on earth was he going to fix it?

“What happened?” Anakin whispered, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in. The boy stared at Obi-Wan with round eyes. The Force around him was full of his confusion and anxiety; his Master didn’t look or act the way Anakin was accustomed to.

“Do you remember what happened?” Obi-Wan asked carefully, gently probing Anakin through the Force. The boy shone so brightly, and his emotions were everywhere, filling up all the empty, cold spaces between them. Anakin’s shields were flimsy, but he didn’t even try to block Obi-Wan, easily letting him in. He had forgotten how open Anakin had been, how gladly he had welcomed Obi-Wan, his Force presence eagerly clinging to Obi-Wan’s own.

Anakin shook his head, clearly frightened. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No,” Obi-Wan reassured his very young Padawan. There was nothing wrong with Anakin, except that he had shrunk in size, his mind and body cast back into his younger self. However, that was hardly something the boy needed to know – at least for the moment. Obi-Wan smiled wryly, trying to suppress his own anxiety. “But something obviously happened to us. Not to worry, we’ll sort it all out.”

Anakin sidled closer to Obi-Wan, his fingers twitching towards his Master’s robe. A sudden suspicion struck Obi-Wan. “Did you touch something?”

The boy shook his head. “Uh, _no_.” Obi-Wan felt a yank in his sleeve; he took Anakin’s small hand into his own. He looked at the pile of stones that stood behind Anakin, partly covered by the long grass. It was the only distinguishable object in sight. Had Anakin touched it, when Obi-Wan’s back had been turned?

He walked to the grey stones, Anakin following closely behind, still holding tightly to Obi-Wan’s hand. Upon closer examination, it was clear that the different sized stones had been placed purposefully atop each other, creating a small stack. The rocks were weather-beaten and old, smoothed by time.

“How curious.” There were faint, barely discernible carvings on the stones’ surface. The lines criss-crossed, forming geometrical shapes.

“What is it?” Predictably, Anakin’s other hand was already inching towards the pile of rocks; Obi-Wan quickly snatched it away, preventing they boy from making contact.

“Careful, don’t touch it. It’s probably what caused all of this.”

“I wasn’t going to touch it,” Anakin muttered none too convincingly.

Obi-Wan led his Padawan a small distance away from the stones, gesturing at the soft green grass. “Come, let’s sit down.”

“To meditate?” Anakin’s displeasure was clear on his voice.

“To think.” The right solution was often the simplest one. However, Obi-Wan was in no hurry. They could wait a little, be in the moment the Force had given them.

Sun peeked through gossamer-thin clouds, and where the edges of the cloud cover parted, sparkling beams of light fell down like a waterfall. The grass sea swayed gently in the warm breeze, sighing and whispering in its own secret language. A flock of birds, raced by their shadows, flashed by, there and gone. Anakin’s vibrant body rested against Obi-Wan’s own, both of their hearts beating calm and steady, in unison.

The peace lasted a whole minute. Then –

“Master, what am I supposed to be thinking?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Whatever you like.”

Anakin shifted against him, tilting his head up towards Obi-Wan. “Okay. I’m thinking that you look funny with a beard.” The way the familiar blue eyes sparkled from mischief, the way the small mouth curved impishly – it made Obi-Wan’s heart ache from bitter-sweet joy.

“ _Your_ face looks funny,” Obi-Wan retorted playfully, fingers ruffling the boy’s soft hair.

“It does not!” Anakin ducked his head, but not quick enough; Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of his wide grin. The Force sang with Anakin’s mirth, his delight that his Master was playing along.

“No, it does not,” Obi-Wan admitted sincerely. “One day, you’re going to be quite handsome.”

“More handsome than you?” The little imp said slyly, hiding his face against Obi-Wan’s robe.

Obi-Wan burst into laughter, surprising himself along with Anakin. “Alas, despite my beard, I fear you will be decidedly much more handsome than your old grey Master.”

“Good.” Anakin sounded pleased. He raised his head, looking at Obi-Wan earnestly. “I don’t really think your beard is funny, Master.”

“Thank you, dear one.”

And so it was for a while; they sat on the ground side by side, the sun and the shadows dancing around them, the only sounds the wind and their own voices. Anakin chatted animatedly, telling this and that, and Obi-Wan was content to listen, answering and commenting when needed.

But as with everything in life, the moment inevitably drew to a close. With some regret, Obi-Wan gently dislodged Anakin’s limpet form from his own, and standing up, lifted the boy to his feet. Anakin seemed to hardly weigh anything.

“I’ve got it now,” he explained, smiling reassuringly. “Sometimes the right solution is the simplest one.”

Anakin pursed his lips, brows furrowed. “Are you going to change back to normal?”

“Perhaps.” Obi-Wan walked back to the rock pile; the designs on the stones’ surface seemed more visible, gleaming golden in the setting sun. “But I need your help Padawan.”

Anakin followed him closely, coming to stand again by Obi-Wan’s side. He looked at the stack of rocks apprehensively, but his voice was resolute. “What do I have to do, Master?”

Obi-Wan bent down – the boy was still so short – and cupped Anakin’s smooth cheek. “Such a brave one. You’ll be a great Knight.”

Anakin beamed, clearly happy.

“You just have to touch the rocks.” Obi-Wan forced himself to drop his hand, letting Anakin go. With bated breath, he watched as the boy stepped up to the pile and without hesitation stretched out his fingers towards the topmost stone.

\----------------------

Obi-Wan stared at the flittering clouds far, far above him. A sudden burst of sunlight blinded him, made his head throb sharply. He breathed in and out calmly, the scent of fresh grass and deep earth flooding his sense of smell.

“What are you doing there?” Anakin asked bemusedly, his low voice reverberating through Obi-Wan’s bones.

Obi-Wan wrenched himself up from the ground, watching as Anakin walked around the rock pile towards him. He was unmistakeably Obi-Wan’s _former_ Padawan; tall, broad-shouldered, shadow-eyed.

“I’m not quite sure,” Obi-Wan confessed dryly, wiping blades of grass from his tunic. He felt tender and raw in a way that had nothing to do with his physical state.

“Did you hit your head?” Anakin’s eyes swept over Obi-Wan, seeking answers that Obi-Wan didn’t know how to give. Tentatively, his mind reached towards his Padawan, his Force presence brushing lightly against Anakin’s own. Just for a moment, the air around them seemed to tremble from hopeful anticipation, Anakin’s tight shields cracking – and then they were shut again, ironclad and impenetrable, the space between them cold and empty.

“Perhaps I did,” Obi-Wan muttered, sighing internally. He was back to normal then – they _both_ were. Anakin’s jaw clenched and his face was drawn into taut, sharp lines. It was the expression Obi-Wan had become very familiar with in the preceding months and days. Ever since the Rako Hardeen mission.

Obi-Wan’s gaze settled on the stack of smooth rocks that stood inconspicuously behind Anakin. “Do you remember what happened?”

“ _Nothing_ happened. When I turned around you were on the ground,” Anakin claimed sullenly. Something fleeting swept across his face, unsure and hesitant. “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Quite sure,” Obi-Wan assured him, but Anakin’s shoulders remained tense, his eyebrows furrowed in scepticism. Obi-Wan didn’t know how to convince this proud, sensitive man, how to smooth the gloomy look from his face. He didn’t know how to make things right again, how to be worthy of Anakin’s trust. It cut him to the quick, ache squeezing his heart. He missed the bright-eyed boy, who had once thought the world of Obi-Wan.

But that boy was gone, and that image of all-knowing, all-fixing Obi-Wan was gone too. Time, with countless disagreements and disappointments, had finally revealed the harsh truth to Anakin: Obi-Wan was faulty, imperfect, _human_. Something, Obi-Wan felt, his former Padawan hadn’t managed to quite forgive him for.

“Let’s go then.” Anakin was already turning away from Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the horizon.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Let’s go.” They had some ways to go still before the sundown.

He followed Anakin, going around the stack of smooth grey stones, his boots just touching the edges of his Padawan’s long shadow. Obi-Wan’s palm still felt warm, the ghost of a small hand against his own more than a memory. He did not look behind.


End file.
